Fossils

Show me where the wind goes.
That wind that shook
The trees that set down roots
In land that turned to sea
And worried the once laden branches
Petrified and empty.

I will show you madness
That in the wooden stones
There on the restless bones
Reaching nowhere
There the self
Is gathered up for harvest
Not in root or rock or roiling deep
But all the eons
In between.